By the Book
by NadiaKrum
Summary: Hermione discovers a section in the library that she hadn't frequented often. There, a certain book takes her on the adventure of a lifetime where she has to make sure everything goes by the book. Full summary and details inside.
1. Chapter 1 The Muggle Perspective

**By the Book**

**Summary:** Hermione is in need of a book, and not just any book, but something that will quench her thirsty mind that so desperately needs distraction. The Muggle Perspective section seemed queer enough, but the book she finds there is even more strange. It transports her to a different world, a world which she must make sure goes_ by the book_.

**A/N:** Not sure where this story will go, but we shall find out in time, won't we?**  
Genres:** crossover, adventure, romance**  
Warnings:** sexually graphic scenes, language, and brutality, **rated M for a reason  
Chapter: **1 of many

oOo

It was deep in the recesses of the vast library, somewhere between the restricted section and the wizarding romance novels of which the regular readers were the female professors of the lonelier type, a petite witch with her head buried between the pages of a book could be found.

She was nearing the last few pages of this particular novella, and was growing increasingly disappointed. The book was not ending in the manner she would have liked it to, and she was, in a manner of speaking, a little embarrassed for the writer and her lack of imagination.

It seemed to be a trend, she had noticed years ago, that the heroine almost always got to live _happily_ after she had overcome whatever odds she had to face with her true love, and settled down to pop out as many kids as she could until she couldn't bear them anymore.

"Rubbish." She whispered, and as she barely finished the last words, tossed the book back onto the table she was sitting at.

She was positively aching for a good read.

Ever since Hermione had returned to Hogwarts for her seventh year she had discovered a little nook inside her that could not be satisfied, not matter how much she read, or even what genre the books that she had delved into were.

For years it had been so easy for Hermione. If she had even felt the slightest bit depressed all she had needed to do was crack open the godforsaken almanac and she would have felt loads better, but as she looked at the piles of books from today that she had gone through thrown almost carelessly onto the table, she realized that today would not be one of those days.

She sighed and rose from her chair. Perhaps she should try a different section? She didn't usually read romance novels, but even after a few of those she grew exasperated, finding that even those did nothing to alter the mood she was in.

She raised her hands to her hair, pulling out the hair-tie that held back her bushy strands in a ponytail, and re-did it into a messy bun high upon her head. As she raised her arms up, her newly acquired gift she received from Bellatrix Lestrange, a long cut from the inside of her wrist to the inside of her elbow caught her eye.

Wincing as the mental memory of what had happened that night in Malfoy manor appeared before her eyes once more she turned from the romance novels in search if something fresh to read, shaking the visions of a thin knife dragging along her soft flesh from her mind.

The library had been empty the past few days. With the winter break creeping upon the students of Hogwarts most could be found outside mucking around in the snow. She could hear muffled voices of the many first years beyond the windows on the grounds, most likely having snowball fights in the setting sun, unlike most of the older students saying their goodbyes to their friends for the holidays.

Hermione hadn't had many friends left to say goodbye to. Many of them had perished in the war, but those that she did have had left earlier in the day after their last exams. But she didn't feel bad that she wasn't outside goofing off with the rest of them. Since the second Wizarding War that had made her a war hero, she hadn't had much time to herself where she could just be alone.

She used to have time to herself _all of the time_, spare the times that she had been interrogated by all sorts of people for being friends with Harry or even going to the Yule Ball with Viktor. But ever since she had become a goddamned war hero, she couldn't go anywhere without someone being interested in what she was doing every moment of the day.

So she found extra enjoyment in being by herself, so much so that she decided to stay at Hogwarts for the holiday instead of going home to spend Christmas with the Weasleys or her parents. The atmosphere at the Burrow had changed since the deaths of everyone so dear to them, and surprisingly Hermione found it a little too stuffy for her liking.

She came back to school for her seventh year, not for her education like everyone had thought, but for the solace she thought she would be able to find there. Her new social status had practically guaranteed her the position of Minister of Magic if she had really wanted it but she just needed a bit of peace for while.

Which is why she decided to spend her time in the library.

The books she left stacked on the table began to put themselves back on their shelves as she walked away to go search for a book in a different section.

Even though she had practically spent her whole Hogwarts career in the library under Madam Pince's nose, there were a few sections that she didn't frequent as much as others, such as the Wizarding Romance Novels. She had only read a few books from that section, and a few others as well, and that was when she had the occasional downtime and wasn't particularly feeling up to studying.

She was practically nearing the restricted section all the way in the far corner of the library when a particular shelf caught her eye.

"The Muggle Perspective," she muttered, her eyebrows furrowing together. She was pretty sure she had only been to this small shelf in the vast library for Muggle Studies, but because she was raised by muggle parents she hadn't seen the need to continue taking course work in something she had already known so much about. Underneath the section plaque was a brief summary etched in curly letters:

_Notable novels about the Magical World written by Muggles._

She rose her hand to run across the spine of the first book on the shelf, a thin blue-ish thing with rounded edges.

"_The Broken Sword_," was the title, "Poul Anderson." She pressed her lips with her finger. She didn't know this one.

The next book, a bright green novel with large yellow lettering, "_The Wonderful Wizard of Oz,_ L. Frank Baum."

This one she knew. She smiled, the book bringing her thoughts back to her living room of her parents house, sitting on the floor with a brown woolen blanket a bowl of almonds and a glass of milk, her favorite snack, watching the brightly colored movie on the telly.

The next was _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_, the one after that, _The Neverending Story_. She perused the shelf about fifty or so books down until one really caught her eye.

"_The Hobbit_." She whispered.

It was a little brown book with small black lettering on the spine. She took it from the shelf and discovered the book was roughly leather-bound. The leather was soft with age and use, and on the front cover was a small ink drawing of a dragon. It looked delicate, almost as if she would probably be the last person to read it before the pages would crumble.

Hermione smiled, and brought it over to a small desk in the corner.

_Chapter One: An Unexpected Party _

_In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort._

Before she knew it, the sun had set over the snow covered castle, and Madam Pince was making her final rounds in the library, making sure there weren't any stragglers.

"Miss Granger?" She called at her.

Startled, Hermione jumped in her chair.

"Oh! Madam Pince!"

"Miss Granger," Pince walked toward her holding a large stack of books. "Miss Granger." She said again, "It is nearly curfew. You should be heading back to your dormitory."

Hermione realized how late it was. Sometime in the middle of her reading the sun had set, and the lanterns in the library had lit themselves.

"Oh," Hermione ran her hand over the cover of the book as she closed it, "I hadn't noticed it was so late…" She stood, placing the book on the desk, but finding it hard to leave it alone on the table, "already."

"Hermione, dear." The older woman cooed seeing her hand lingering on the small novel, "Take it with you tonight."

Realizing the grip and the emotional attachment she had developed unknowingly to the book, Hermione smiled at Pince.

"I only trust you will bring it back tomorrow?" Pince said with a wink.

Knowing that the woman was usually compared to a prune and generally just downright unpleasant, Hermione was slightly shell-shocked. All she could manage was a quick "Thank you," before she was off to the Gryffindor tower.

ooo

Midnight found Hermione at the final pages of _The Hobbit_.

She was in her Head Girl's room in the tower, sitting cross legged on her bed with a mug of pumpkin juice and some untouched rock cakes from Hagrid.

_ "Thank goodness!" said Bilbo laughing, and handed him the tobacco-jar. _

"That's it?" Hermione muttered, feeling the rush of the story fading along with the smile that had been etched on her face all night.

No! She didn't want it to end! It had taken her forever to find a book she could get into. So into that she could forget who she was for an hour or two-

She reached for her pumpkin juice took a quick sip to calm her nerves, but before she could close the book, she spotted a small inscription at the bottom of the page.

_If you are interested in Hobbits you will learn a lot more about them in The Lord of the Rings:_

_THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING_

_THE TWO TOWERS_

_THE RETURN OF THE KING_

Hermione grinned.

She had a plan.

ooo

She had been in the library handfuls of times after curfew, most of those being ones that she had snuck around in the restricted section, but none of those times could compare to the way she felt now.

Maybe it was because she wanted to get away, or maybe it was because she hadn't read anything worth her time in a while. Maybe it was because the book had activated her sense of adventure by tempting her with "_If you are interested in Hobbits you will learn more about them in_…"

And she could never resist an opportunity to learn.

It was dark in the library, the only light coming from small lamps near the ceiling with small flickering flames, barely enough to light her way. But using her memory and the small illumination she did have she found her way back to single shelf from earlier.

Pulling her beaded bag that she still kept from the prolonged camping trip from her pocket, she reached in to the elbow, feeling for _The Hobbit_. When her fingers ran across the rough leather, she grabbed it and replaced it back onto the shelf.

Now all she had to do was look for _The Lord of the Rings_. And she didn't have a hard time doing that.

It was one of the largest books on the shelf, but certainly not in the whole library. Hermione had lugged around her fair share of 3 stone books. The binding and covers were a soft velvety black, and in the light she could see the large golden letters on the spine.

_THE LORD OF THE RINGS _

_J. R. R. TOLKIEN_

She picked it off the shelf, watching as the other books slid loosely into place of the missing one, making sure the noise they made wasn't loud as they slid into each other. Opening her beaded bag wider to get the book in more comfortably, she placed it on top of a surprisingly small stack of books all about medicinal herbs and potions, the old copy of Beedle the Bard that Dumbledore bequeathed to her and a few books on protective spells and the like that she had used and not bothered to remove since she had really needed them.

Turning from the bookshelf after making sure to close the bag tightly by the drawstrings she tip-toed her way out of the library and into the corridor. It was dark in the hall, but she again used the small light of the torches and her own memory to get her back to the grand staircase. She could have taken up her role as head girl in those moments and acted as if she was making rounds in the night and not have to sneak around in the dark in case she got caught, but she didn't feel the need. She just needed to get back to the common room at least and crack open the pages to the book and begin. Plus, there weren't that many students left for the holiday, so rounds by prefects and head students were virtually eliminated.

Hermione had barely let the portrait close behind her went she reached for her bag, pulling the book out and practically falling down into the couch in front of the fireplace.

_Three Rings for the Elven-Kings under the sky,_

_Seven for the Dwarf-Lords in the halls of stone, _

_Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die, _

_One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne,_

_In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie._

_One Ring to rule them all,_

_One Ring to find them, _

_One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them,_

_In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie._

It wasn't until the battle of Helms Deep and the dawn shining through the windows did Hermione realize the time, and just how tired she was. A few students came down from the stairs case on their way to breakfast, and to the urging of her stomach, rose from the couch to join them. She slid the novel back into the beaded bag, and pushed her way past the portrait.

There weren't that many people in the hall, but even without them Hermione's extreme fatigue weighed down on her legs, making her walk sluggish and energy-draining. She made it to the staircase before she had to take a break. She saw a bench off to the side, and made her way onto it, crashing into the stone on her bottom.

"Why am I so tired?" She murmured.

_Maybe because you pulled an unnecessary all-nighter after being so stressed?_

She shushed her thoughts, laying back against the cool marble wall, letting it lull her to quietness. She wouldn't fall asleep, she knew that. A near year of running around in the wilderness with Harry and Ron had made it so that she could sleep even if she was uncomfortable, but she wasn't about to sleep in the middle of the hallway.

She closed her eyes. In the redness of her eyelids she could see it- Middle Earth. Even though she was only halfway done, she could see it. The grasses in the plains, the trees in the forest, the pebble stones in the beds of the rivers. The many horses in the stables of Rohan, the leaves fallen on the ground in Rivendell, and the twinkling lights upon the flets of the Golden Wood.

She had to get more of it.

Her eyes shot to the beaded bag once more she pulled out _The Lord of the Rings_. She found the dog-eared page and begun where she left off, loosing herself once more in the words of Tolkien.

There was a pop and a clank next to her, and she rose from being nose deep in the book to discover a silver plate of fruit and honey drizzled toast accompanied by a large goblet of pumpkin juice. House elves.

Her stomach growled at the sight of the fruit and toast, and with one hand flipping the pages of the book, and another free to feed herself, she continued.

He drew in a deep breath. 'Well, I'm back,' he said.

"There goes that one," Hermione said as she traced her fingers along the last line. The book wasn't over though. After the last chapter there was a little over a hundred pages of appendix' and maps and she perused those for a bit before finally closing it.

ooo

She returned to the common room at lunch time, not in the mood to go to the Great Hall to eat.

"Perhaps I should return it to the library?" She said, but she found that she didn't want to. She hadn't bothered putting it away and carried it with her in plain sight. She sat again in the spot on the couch in front of the empty fireplace, placing the large book in her lap.

She opened it to a random page, and then flipped through the pages like she was shuffling cards.

She was coming back to reality and down from the high she was on and she didn't like it one bit. Like an addict she felt the symptoms of withdrawal, and tried to hold onto the book for dear life. She flipped through the pages once more, and this time something strange happened.

The pages started flipping of their own accord, and from somewhere deep inside the book, a golden light shone through, turning the pages into an iridescent yellow color.

The light grew, but before any more could happen, Hermione slammed the book closed and returned it to the beaded bag.

She had to return it to the library. Shining up like that, it wasn't natural, even in the wizarding world.

She remembered how Harry had described Tom Riddle's diary, and her experience with Tolkien's didn't seem too different. Her steps were quick, and in her concentration she nearly had collided in a hallway with Peeves, and had to redirect her path.

She made it back to her favored shelf of late, and reached down her beaded bag to what would hopefully be the last time for _The Lord of the Rings_.

The stack all the way in the bottom had tipped over in her attempt to suddenly escape Peeves, so she had to reach deeply to find the velvety covers.

But all she felt at the bottom of the pile were open pages, and from deep inside the little bag a light illuminated. Before Hermione could react the light consumed her and she was no longer in the library, but lying in a field of grass.

oOo

**And just to be safe:**

Copyright (C) 1966 by J.R.R. Tolkien

Copyright (C) Renewed 1994 by Christopher R. Tolkien, John F.R. Tolkien and Priscilla M.A.R. Tolkien

Copyright (C) Restored 1996 by the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien, assigned 1997 to the J.R.R. Tolkien Copyright Trust

All Rights Reserved


	2. Chapter 2 Munchkin Land

**By the Book**

**Summary:** Hermione is in need of a book, and not just any book, but something that will quench her thirsty mind that so desperately needs distraction. The Muggle Perspective section seemed queer enough, but the book she finds there is even more strange. It transports her to a different world, a world which she must make sure goes_ by the book_.

**A/N:** Not sure where this story will go, but we shall find out in time, won't we?**  
Genres:** crossover, adventure, romance**  
Warnings:** sexually graphic scenes, language, and brutality, **rated M for a reason  
Chapter: **2 of many

oOo

"Grass?"

Hermione's fingers gripped the stuff, and sure enough she ripped from the ground handfuls of it; long and thin, and really green. The gentle breeze tilted all the blades to one side as Hermione sat up, feeling much like an Alice.

"And I am most definitely in Wonderland." She gasped.

All around her were fields of green, the occasional tree and rock sprinkled across the landscape cutting into the stark streamline waves of grass. The sky was the brightest shade of blue she had ever seen it in, and the clouds also the most white. Everywhere was splashed with pure color, looking as if they had never seen the race of man and experienced the horrors of industry.

"But I most definitely am not in Kansas anymore."

She clearly recalled it being the beginning of December, but where was all the snow? And the castle? The forest?

No, she couldn't panic.

"Get your head right, Hermione!" She rubbed her forehead, "We need to think rationally about this."

Still sitting on the soft pillow-like blades she hadn't need to rack her brain for long before she came to a conclusion.

_The Lord of the Rings._

It was the only explanation. It must have sucked her in much like Tom Riddle's diary had Harry. But she didn't think the book was a Horcrux of some sort, it couldn't be. It must have been enchanted somehow. There were books in Hogwarts' vast library that were known to have strange qualities, but none to this extent that she knew of.

"Oh! I should have made sure this wouldn't happen!" She thought back to the toppled book stack in her beaded bag that caused this—the beaded bag!

Her eyes followed her hands to her pockets, and patted them.

They were empty.

"Shit." She cursed, closing her eyes with disbelief. She opened them again, slowly, searching around her in the foot-high grass.

She spotted it behind some leaves near her right side and snatched it up. Breathing a sigh of relief she drew the drawstrings. Peering in, she could see that everything in the bag was toppled over, too much chaos to find exactly what she needed at this moment by mere muggle means. For this task she would use magic.

The thought brought her back to another startling realization. Her wand! In all her worry she had completely forgotten to make she had one of her most important tools for survival—

Adjusting herself on her rear she felt the familiar poke that signaled what she was looking for, and from her back pocket she drew her wand.

She calmed herself, fingering the soft wooden vine carvings that decorated it, and chastised herself for getting so worked up and stressing herself for nothing. Harry and Ron had always told her that she got worked up over so little, and to be more easygoing.

Returning her attention to the beaded bag, she put her wand to the opening.

"_Accio_ The Lord of the Rings!"

She ducked her head out of the way as the large book shot out of the bag and toppled onto the ground. Pulling the bag shut and putting it into her pocket, she drew her wand up and aimed it at the book.

She couldn't be too careful, for all she knew it could still have secrets within its pages, and she really didn't need to get anymore lost than she already was.

Creeping closer, she advanced cautiously, making sure that the book wasn't unnaturally vibrating or something.

"_Finite Incantatem_!"

Nothing visible happened, so she tiptoed closer, hovered her hand over it for a moment, and then lightly pressed her fingertips to the soft cover.

Nothing.

Not lowering her guard, the used her wand to poke open the book. She half expected to see another light that would miraculously take her home, and she also half expected it to merely flop open, the gentle breeze blowing the pages, telling her that it was all out of its will to do so.

Which was exactly what it did.

She had a decision to make. She could either stay where she was at, rotting to bits hoping the book would have some sort of pity on her, or walk off and find some sort of water that she could survive on, find a road, figure out where she was and if she really was where she thought she was, and then do something about it.

"Time for survival mode." She said.

She had to find water. It wouldn't be long before she dehydrated in the sun, and by the looks of it and from the heat, it was just before noon. If she didn't get out of the sun, and soon, without any water she would be a dead girl. Even as a witch she needed water or some liquid of the sort. It was a known principle of magic that you couldn't make food out of thin air. You could duplicate something almost infinitely, but you needed to have a bit of it first.

But the grass was dry and the air was too, signaling no rain for today and no dew on the ground to duplicate.

She needed to find water; all this greenery wouldn't be here if there wasn't some sort of it nearby. Raising her hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she looked out into the distance, she spotted an alcove of trees some distance off.

Where there were trees that tall, there had to be lots of water for them to grow.

Grabbing up all her things, placing the book back in the bag and safely into her pocket, she began walking in the direction of the wood, holding her wand in her hand like a machete. It didn't take long to get there, an hour or two perhaps, but when she did, she was already feeling the bubbly spit in her mouth that were the first signs of dehydration.

She was sweating in the heat of the sun, but she didn't dare take of the light jacket she had on for fear of losing what little sweat and fluid she had out into the atmosphere along with the treat of receiving sunburn. When you had lived your entire life in an almost sunless place like England, sun burn and bright days, such as this one, where few and far between.

By the sun, she could tell what direction she was traveling in. Even in the short time that she was moving it had moved in the direction that it sets, the west. She was moving almost exactly due east, but thankfully even this far away in the silence of the wilderness she could already hear the rushing water that was probably a river.

At this point she could only hope that she would make it without passing out before she reached it.

The trees where tall but young and still growing, drinking the water from the river. Said river was very wide, and from the blue color, she could say remarkably clear.

Almost running there, she crashed to her knees in the bank, dropping her wand into the pebbles and using her two free hands to scoop up bowls of water and gulping it down. It ran down her face and her neck to her shoulders, cooling her body and calming her nerves. After a few more handfuls, she sat back on the balls of her feet, allowing herself to sigh and enjoy the breeze and the sounds of the rushing river water and the ringing of metal.

_Metal?_

Whipping her head to the side, she spotted a man not but twenty feet from her.

He was very tall, one of the tallest men she'd ever seen. His hair grazed his shoulders in an almost ginger but darkish color, and he had thick dark eyebrows along with a full beard. He had a sword strapped to his belt and dark clothes with silver trimmings, along with some sort of animal horn and a shield on his back. One of his gloved hands was placed on the hilt of his sword, but it looked like he was replacing it to its scabbard.

None the less, Hermione went into defensive mode, grabbing her wand from the floor but holding it to her side not wanting to make him anymore suspicious of her and thinking she was positively loony.

Even though he had weaponry, he looked civilized, and certainly not anything like she imagined Tolkien's monsters to look like, even with her vast personal experience. No, he looked normal enough. Still she kept her guard up.

"Hello?" She said to him.

He looked at her strangely, and for a second she wondered if he could understand her. She knew the common language in Middle Earth was Westron, but what if her English and their Westron were different?

"Excuse me?" She said, "But, do you have any idea where we are?"

He raised his arms up in surrender, but she figured it was meant to calm her more than to show his stance. He looked her up and down, no doubt in wonder of her clothes that would be deemed strange attire in his world. She knew he had never seen the material that was jeans before.

"Sir?"

He seemed to snap back to reality.

"My lady?" He advanced a few steps, "Are you alright?"

He spoke in clear-as-day English, with an accent similar to her own she noticed.

"Oh thank goodness." She said, "For a second there I was terribly worried that your language would be different. I mean, I had read that it was, but I couldn't be too sure." She caught herself rambling, and stopped to let him speak.

"Language?" he furrowed his brows, "My Lady, we both speak Westron, the common tongue of the people, but unless you hailed from Rohan or the North I should doubt you'd speak otherwise."

All she managed was a quick "Oh," before he was off again.

"I am called Boromir, son of Denethor, steward of Gondor." He bowed his head. "I pose no threat to you, and may even seek to aid you as I see no company. Tell me, who are you?"

_Boromir!_ Hermione thought. She knew him from the story!

So it was true, she _was_ in Middle Earth After all. She studied Boromir again. He looked a little bit different from the Boromir the book had imagined for her. Slightly stockier, with more muscle than she would have thought, definitely broader and much taller. _The Lord of the Rings_ had been only slightly different in describing his aura, he had an air of a menacing quality, but he also had the same regal quality he had been described as having.

She didn't need to rack her brain long, and soon she was rushed by Boromir's whole history. A dead mother, died in childbirth of her second son and his younger brother. A father proud of one son, the one before her, and unfair to the other- Faramir. He joins the fellowship, proudly to defend the honor of Gondor. And before her own eyes, she witnessed his death. Dying to defend those he swore to.

Noticing him still waiting for her answer, Hermione racked her brain quickly.

Should she tell him who she was? Should she give him her true name? She couldn't tell him everything, obviously. Even though she knew she could trust him, she had no idea exactly where in Middle Earth she was, and depending on that location, he could just dump her off at the nearest village and claim her to be mad.

With that thought she tucked her wand discretely up her sleeve. No need proving to him what he no doubt already thought of her.

"I am Hermione." She said, pronouncing her name clearly. She thought she should come up with a more common name for this situation, but she didn't need to deceive Boromir the first chance she could get, considering it was better to have him on her side rather than against.

"Her-my-ninny." He attempted her name. Butchering it like most. "My Lady, are you alone?"

"Yes," she said, noticing his frown, "But well protected." She added. "And I'm afraid that I'm lost. If you don't mind, could you tell me where we are?"

She walked up closer to him, leaving only a few feet. This close she could see that his eyes were green, and that he was actually a bit bigger than she expected. She needed to find out where she was, and exactly what time of year it was. If Boromir was alone, that either meant three things: either she was in Gondor years or months before the war as he looked about the age the book described him to be, or she was closer to the time of the fellowship as he made his journey to Rivendell for the council, or he had already set out with the Fellowship from Rivendell and he had been sent to fetch water for the group.

"We are on the banks of the mighty Loudwater." He said.

"Loudwater?" She wished she could break out the book now, and look at the map, but she didn't know what kind of butterfly effect that might have on the story if Boromir asked to see the book.

"Also known as the Bruinen." He continued, "Naught but a day or so from where I suppose Rivendell should be."

There. Now she knew exactly the time of year, location, and part of the story she happened to be inserted.

"Boromir?" She asked, "Could I ask you a favor?"

"My Lady, anything you ask. I am more than obliged to help you in your situation."

"Could you escort me to Rivendell? I'm afraid that I've lost my way, and hopefully I'll be able to find some refuge there for some time." She asked. "If it is no trouble." She added, knowing he would say yes regardless, but just brownnosing a bit to get on his favored side.

She needed to get to Rivendell, even if she had to make it on her own. She recalled the Ringwraiths, and was pretty sure she didn't want a run-in with them. As far as she could recall, Boromir didn't meet them on his way to the council, and if things remained unchanged by her presence, if she stuck with him, she could make safe her journey to the elven city and hopefully meet with Lord Elrond or Gandalf and see what they thought of this mess as soon as possible, and see if she couldn't make it home soon.

"My Lady, it would be my honor. In fact, I am headed that way now. I merely stopped for a break in shade from the afternoon sun." He said, pulling a small satchel bag from his back, he brought out a small strip of what looked like salted meat.

"Have you any food?" Holding it out to her, he softened his voice, "You may have this if you are hungry. Unfortunately I only have these strips of wild turkey left as I near the end of my journey. "

Feeling her almost empty stomach jump at the slip of jerky, she squeaked a thank you, ripping it into two and biting off one of the ends. It was extremely salty, and as the taste of it filled her mouth so did her saliva.

She sighed at the feeling of the meat as it slid down her throat. It felt like she hadn't eaten in ages, but she supposed that the extra long walk she took along with the added stress of the whole situation contributed to her lack of energy, and she had to sit down in the damp bank.

Spotting her fatigue Boromir spoke up, "My Lady, I don't wish to be of any more distress to you, but we must make haste. There is talk of foul beings being sighted not far from here, and if we wish to make it safely we must make a move on."

She looked up at him, and even though she knew he wouldn't be in any danger until the Fellowship left Rivendell, that was unless everything had been left the same even as she was there altering the story, she knew he was right.

"I have a horse that we may ride together, if you permit it."

Almost as if on cue, from behind the giant man appeared an equally giant horse, and Hermione began to wonder if all things where big here, or if she was just unnaturally tiny. Either way, by the look of it, she and Boromir would be able to fit on the horse quite comfortably.

"Boromir, that would be excellent."

Gathering up what few things he had on the ground and placing them on the pack on the back of the horse, he turned to Hermione and gave his hand.

"Shall we my lady?"

She took this chance to thank her parents for indulging her in riding lessons when she was younger, for if she hadn't she knew she would be all over the place not knowing what exactly to do but just having a gist. Not needing his hand but humoring him anyway, she raised her foot to the stirrup and climbed on.

Probably remembering his medieval manners, he spoke up. "My Lady, if it is too bothersome to you I shall just walk alongside the stallion during our journey, if it so pleases you."

Looking behind her on the horse Hermione saw more than enough room for Boromir to ride with her.

"My Lord," she said, playing into the whole scenario, "There is plenty of room up here, and unless it will hurt the horse you are more than welcome to join me. Besides, I'll feel bad if you have to walk the rest of the journey to Rivendell, when I am the one whom is inconveniencing you of a horse."

She wasn't uncomfortable in the least bit. She had spent plenty of time with Harry and Ron up her arse and invading her womanly bubble so much so in the past year especially that she supposed she really didn't have any regard for personal space any longer. So when Boromir skillfully mounted his horse behind her and grabbed the reins on either side of her body, she was surprised, to say the least, of a gentle shyness that crept up into her cheeks.

His arms and clothing were warm and comforting. Maybe because she hadn't seen anyone or spoke to anyone before and during her recent drama of arriving at Middle Earth, and maybe her mind was reacting to the stress of it all to feel the sudden… stirrings.

Shaking her head to clear her mind of the sheer idiocy, Hermione was brought back to life by Boromir.

"We make haste to the halls of Lord Elrond!" He gave a great cry, and the large brown stallion jumped to life, galloping off alongside the river.

"May our journey be a safe one." Hermione whispered.

ooo


	3. Chapter 3 Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner

Chapter 3: Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner, Not even the Veela

oOo

They hadn't been riding for long, at least not as long as Hermione imagined them riding or walking in the Fellowship, before the sun was setting and Boromir began hinting at them stopping to rest in the night before setting off in the morning.

"I suggest we stop soon." He said from behind her on the horse, slowing to a trot, "We require a suitable place for camp by the river."

During their ride they had talked for a bit. She told him a fabricated story of how she became separated from her caravan and was wandering about before she miraculously found the river and met him. She hoped he didn't pay too much attention to the strangeness of her clothing, and thankfully he seemed to skip right over it.

He was probably thinking about his home too deeply to realize her strange appearance. She was in her Hogwarts robes after all—well partly anyway, and she supposed the shape of the robe wasn't too far from the likeness of the female clothing in Middle Earth. He told Hermione about his journey to Rivendell from the white city of Gondor but conveniently leaving out the reason why he made the journey.

Hermione knew what it was, of course, but her memory was a little shaky on the extremely small details of the book. She couldn't remember when it was exactly that Boromir arrived in Rivendell. She was sure it had been nighttime and she recalled a thought of it being hard to get to Rivendell, as one had to become a bit lost before finding the city, a trick the elves had against unwelcome visitors. But she wasn't too sure.

"Alright." She said, and she watched as he pulled on the reins slowing the horse completely.

He got off then, helping her get dismount as well before turning to the pack on the horse and starting to remove the roll of blankets. As she watched him from somewhere in the back of her mind something was alerting her to something being wrong.

If it was already nighttime, and Boromir was already near the river that was somewhere in the vicinity of Rivendell then he should reach the city tonight, if her memory served her right (and it usually did). But here he was, with her about to make camp for the night.

Something was wrong.

"Boromir, do you, by any chance, know what day it is?" She asked him, hoping that if he could give her the date she could figure out what was bothering her so.

"October the twenty-fourth, if I've been keeping to the sun correctly as one should." He said, turning from the horse to lay the blanket of the ground.

The twenty fourth? Something about that day screamed of importance to her.

"Wow. Already?" She gasped, keeping to her earlier story "It seems as if I've lost track of the days while I've been lost, helpless and on my own."

Sure, she was starting to make her situation rather cheesy and milking the whole 'helpless damsel' thing, and if Ron were here he'd tease her relentlessly about it, but he wasn't. None of her friends were here. She needed to figure out a way to survive on her own in this world, and if that meant she had to pretend to be a little more helpless than usual then so be it.

She'd just learnt the date, so know at least she had something a lot more solid to go on. October the twenty-fourth…

Of course! The day Frodo wakes up in Rivendell and learns what has happened to Gandalf during their failed meeting at Bree that lead them to Weathertop. The stabbing. Glorfindel's rescue of Frodo, bringing him to Elrond to be healed.

All today.

But she needed to check the book. She had to be sure.

"May I go off a ways to relieve myself?" She asked, the best excuse of hers at the moment.

"You need not ask, my lady. Nevertheless, do not wander far. We may be within the protection of the elves, but these woods may yet not be trusted."

She didn't need to hear that twice. Muttering a quick "thanks," she turned to the thicker cluster of the trees all the while fingering the pocket she knew the beaded bag was in.

The grey trainers that she usually sported were replaced by her black flats, an effort to make herself tad more quiet when she left for the library last night, but their impracticality for the current situation showed itself as she tripped over a root of the tree in the darkness.

"Oh no," she gasped, but hopefully he didn't hear her embarrassing fall or didn't bother to concerning himself.

She pulled herself up, using the trunk of a nearby tree to aid her, and ducked behind it to hide herself. The jeans under her robes were wet at the knees with damp dirt she brushed it of quickly before adverting her attention.

Pulling the beaded bag from her pocket, she couldn't help but feel the overwhelming fear that someone, or something, might catch her, and that would be absolutely horrible.

Hermione had always prided herself on being the brightest witch her age, as many wizards had told her, but being so excelled at academics left her with a few drawbacks that her friends had relentlessly badgered her for. She always had to double check things, and never took theories for an answer. She also didn't have much common sense, she knew this, and because of it she had to be extra careful about what happened here.

Knowing her, she would try to fix things that she knew was going to happen just because she knew they were going to and prevent them. Thinking back to her companion and his death at the hands of Uruk-hai she knew that everything needed to go its course. There was no telling how many things would change if he lived, and if Hermione's usual luck was anything to go by, it would probably lead to the destruction of this world.

Opening up the bag, she trembled as she reached in to the elbow and pulled out _The Lord of the Rings_ that was on top of the toppled stack.

She cracked it open as she sat on her arse and lit up her wand just enough so she could see, and flipped it to the back where she knew was a brief chronology of a few of the ages of Middle Earth. And there it was.

"_APPENDIX B_

_THE TALE OF THE YEARS_

_(CHRONOLOGY OF THE WESTLANDS)_"

This book in the wrong hands was literally a death sentence.

She turned the page to the Third Age ("the fading years of the Eldar") and followed her finger down past the dates and their details until she found what she was looking for.

"THE GREAT YEARS

3018

APRIL

12 Gandalf reaches Hobbiton."

"Yes." She whispered, continuing down the page and the next. Finally her finger crashed into the word "October."

Nervous and hoping that she was right in the path the book had been taking, she ventured down to the twenty-fourth.

"_24 Frodo recovers and wakes. Boromir arrives in Rivendell at night._"

"Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no!" she whispered.

Boromir was supposed to reach Rivendell by tonight, probably now or even a few hours ago, but instead he was pulling out blankets and getting ready to rest for the night. Because of her.

She had to get him to leave, if she didn't, and if he didn't get to Rivendell tonight, who knew what would happen. Her presence had already threatened to change something, and she had to correct it. Perhaps even her being here had changed the history of the story too far for her to even correct.

She needed to speak with someone, and two of those people she could think of where in Rivendell this very moment.

"What I wouldn't give for a long chat with Dumbledore right now. _Nox_." She said, replacing all the things back into her robe, making sure the beaded bag was secure.

She was nervous, no doubt she was always nervous about _everything_, and fretted about the little details entirely _too_ much. But this was beginning to be way beyond her abilities. The tiniest thing she did or did not do could change everything completely. No to even begin mentioning what would happen if anyone from the story got their hands on the books, especially if it was the baddies of Middle Earth.

Realizing that she couldn't just stand there forever worrying herself into a hole in the ground, she took in a deep breath and made her way back to Boromir.

"Fear no further, my lady Herm-y-one." He spoke continuing her conversation from before. She winced at the mispronunciation of her name but didn't correct him. "By my protection and lead we will make it to the sanctuary of the elves in the morn."

"Actually my lord Boromir, I think it best to continue in our journey tonight. I feel as if we are close already, and besides, we don't need to stop for me. I have been on my own in the wilderness for quite a while, and I've gotten used to it."

She had to convince him to get up and continue their journey. If he made the decision to wait out the night, and continue the journey tomorrow the story would be altered and Hermione didn't even want to know what that would begin to mean.

Even if it was so such a small detail as this the effect it would have the rest of the story, if her calculations were correct, could be catastrophic.

"But my Lady, do you not wish to rest and be rid of your weariness? I admit I am able to journey further this night—"

"Yes, but I really think we should be getting on the move. Besides, you mentioned we are close already." Hermione cut him off, "Didn't you?"

"Certainly, I estimate we are not that far, but are you not exhausted? We will be better able to find the city of the elves in the morn, when the sun illuminates our path and the threat of the creatures that haunt this land are lessened. In the shadow of the moon it is best to lay low, and hope that we remain unnoticed."

Wraiths.

"I must admit that I know of the horrors that you speak of." She said, attempting to make her speech a bit more dated like his own. "But I have been traveling on my own for far too long, and I find that I yearn for a warm bed for the night, especially since we are so close."

That's it. If she played the damsel in distress role then his manly instincts would kick in and he'd just need to do it. But Hermione knew why he wanted to settle for the night. It was a bit of a secret that the elves had, that one must become lost in order to find the city, and that was exactly what Boromir was. He was lost. He probably wanted to get his bearings straight, look at his map a bit, and then try and figure out which way to go next. But now that he'd acquired Hermione he'd been forced to slow down and figured she'd want to rest her female body.

Of course he would never admit it. The sexist.

"I suppose that we are near a day's journey or less from the city. We may continue tonight, but we may be aimlessly walking in the dark amongst fouler things."

There we go. He had no idea she was pushing him.

"That's fine Boromir. The sun has just set, and I would hate to waste this precious time that we have." She said, helping him pick up the pack and blankets from the ground and replacing them on his horse. "Besides, I have a feeling we are closer than you think."

According to the book, they weren't even a few miles from the city.

"As you wish my Lady." He helped her on the horse again, got on behind her, and they were off.

The forest was green in some places, but seemed to be in a state of perpetual autumn, and Hermione found herself reminded to the wording and descriptions of it in the book. Even in the darkness she could see the similarities and there was no doubt in her mind that they were closing in on Rivendell. It was ethereal, for a lack of better words. The leaves on the trees and even on the ground were huge, bigger than her head, and now they completely blanketed the path that was only dirt just a moment ago.

Boromir was wordless this time and she couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking. He was probably just a wordless as she was, for it was obvious that in the time that was no more than an hour, they had already begun to find the signs of the outskirts of Rivendell. A little bit more riding and they would be there in no time. And thank Merlin for that. Her buttocks were sore, and so were her thighs from gripping the horse. Riding a horse was no question so much more tiring then flying a broomstick, or even Buckbeak.

All of a sudden, and seemingly to have just appeared behind some trees, was the tall graying stone arches of the city, majestically lit by the stars and perhaps another source that Hermione couldn't pinpoint. The designs of crisscrossing shapes were delicately Celtic in nature, and reflected nature perhaps even better than the nature itself.

If she had any doubts about if she really was in Arda, they were immediately thrown out the window.

"Oh goodness!" She gasped, "We were so close… the entire time."

Boromir brought them to the largest arch in the gates and they passed through with ease, trotting beyond the bush and into civilization. She half expected to feel them pass through a flexible magical shield at some point, but when they didn't she turned her attention to what was in front of her.

Six tall and exceptionally lithe beings stood before them. Boromir suddenly stopped the horse, and masterfully dismounted, giving Hermione the chance to study the creatures before her as he aided in her own dismount.

They were not very much unlike Veela, tall and glowing with an inner light. Their long hair was no shorter than mid-back, even for the males whom Hermione noticed the only difference being the styling of their clothes and their high cheekbones paired with angled jaws. They all wore robes of earthy tones, and all were barefoot.

A male in a light brown tunic and green-ish leggings stepped foreword, and in an exotic accent Hermione had no idea where to place, addressed them both:

"Welcome, my lord and lady to Rivendell, the Last Homely House East of the Sea. My lord Elrond sends his welcome, and we here in his stead. We are to lead you to your quarters, and in the morrow to the council."

The group separated into two subgroups of three each, and Hermione found herself being led off and away from Boromir before she could say goodbye, catching the glint of his shield on his back from her periphery before he passed beyond the branches. The elves were more beautiful and alluring up close and as a male lent her his arm and she took it she could help but feel a little dazzled and very tiny. The elves were tall, definitely more so than Boromir, and she wondered if perhaps she had always been rather small and never took notice (which was unlikely) or everyone was unnaturally tall.

He was as golden-skinned as the other two, another male and a female, but had gentle waves of red spilling from his crown and down past his shoulders. No freckles or anything of the sort as she was used to seeing paired with ginger hair, and in fact he was so different from the usual looks of the Weasley's that she found herself missing the features she was so used to.

He brought her up the path between the trees and up to a greying structure with many arches and interlacing designs, the other two following behind closely. The difference between the stone and the trees was virtually unrecognizable and if she hadn't already known from the book she would have simply thought the stone to be the trees coxed to grow into shelter for the city. Everything glowed slightly in the light of the moon, but she found that she had an easy time of finding her footing, and didn't feel clumsy at all.

"My lady, I am called Cymbiir by my people, and if you so wish you may call me as such." His voice was smooth like cream, and she had to stretch her neck up to see his face smiling down upon her. His eyes were a shade between blue and grey that she had read all elves possessed, and they were crescented in his smile.

"Oh, ok." She gasped, still not over their ethereal Veela likenesses.

"I have, and my companions, have been told to bring you to your quarters to refresh yourself."

"That sounds lovely."

He smiled again as they rounded a corner. The halls were decorated with tapestries and an assortment of statues that marked where doorways and the corners of new hallways were located. Hermione had yet to see any doors and she had the opportunity to peek into rooms on more than one occasion. Most were vacant, or seemed to be, with lit fireplaces in some and large shelves with endless stacks of books and papers in others. Hermione didn't know if she ever would but she hoped that she would be able to spend some time in the vast library that she knew was housed here. One could only imagine what sorts of knowledge would be stored away in Rivendell.

"Lord Elrond wishes you rest in his home, and certainly in these troubled times. It has been long since we have seen nigh a mortal here, none the less a female. I have lived many lives of men and have not had proper interaction with one. Tell me, are they all as quiet as you?"

Realizing her silence, she shook her head in surprise.

"Oh, forgive me! I haven't ever-I mean, I haven't… well, I've never seen an elf before. Where I'm from they are only known in books!" She stumbled over her own words as she tried to distract herself from falling under the spell that they had put her under since arriving.

He chuckled a little, and she continued, "I'm Hermione by the way, Hermione Granger."

"Yes, I know."

"You know?"

"As I said, my lady, my Lord Elrond bids you rest."

Of course Elrond would know she was coming, his gift of foresight had provided him with the advantage. She had let yet another thing slip her mind.

"Elrond?" At his nod she continued, "Cymbiir, should you know where I am able to find him?"

She needed to get to someone with infinite knowledge as soon as possible. Gandalf was on that list as well.

"He is here and there amongst the city. Presently, his whereabouts are beyond my knowledge, but he has been seen with the Grey Wizard and an injured hobbit that arrived here not to long ago." He gracefully stopped, "Here is where you shall rest. In the morn I shall return with breakfast and news."

He stepped to the side and a gracefully arched doorway appeared from behind his towering body. She dropped his arm from her hand.

"Thank you, but I should like to see Lord Elrond as soon as it is possible. Perhaps tonight?"

"My Lady, you require rest. If it is my Lord's company you require word shall be sent but rest assured, you are safe here in these halls."

"Is there no way to see him tonight?" She knew she was being pushy, but something like this couldn't wait. She needed to sort out her situation as soon as possible. She couldn't help but feel like she was being shoved into a corner and ignored.

"My Lady, word shall be sent, but I cannot assure you that you will witness his presence tonight." He smiled again, and Hermione found herself calmed. "Ithilwen and Eruadan shall help you in your nightly duties and assist you shall you be in need of anything. I shall return tomorrow."

He took her hand in his and lent down to kiss it gently on the back. He rose from his bow and floated off and down the corridor.

"Okay…" Hermione didn't like being ignored.

She turned her attention to the other two. The female and the male, who was now holding a basket, came up to her other side. They were both blonde and blue-eyed, and shared the same aristocratic nose. Twins perhaps? The female raised her hand to rest gently on Hermione's shoulder.

"My lady, I am Ithilwen and this is my brother Eruadan. May we take you inside and help you to a bath?"

In Eruadan's basket were green little bars of what Hermione supposed was soap sitting atop white sheets that probably served as towels. Thinking that this was about the most interaction with anyone important she was going to get this night, she sighed.

"I suppose. Right in here?" She pointed to the doorway.

Ithilwen nodded, and gestured for Hermione to walk in. The room was dark, but soon was cast with a red glow from the roused fire as Eruadan placed another log upon the embers.

There was a bed, a vanity with a tub, and by the fire were a chaise longue and an accompanying en cabriolet. But there was someone sitting in the chair, and Hermione jumped as the person spoke.

"Finally, Hermione my dear, you have arrived." His voice was deep and scratchy, and Hermione could see the shape of a pointed hat and long flowing robes. "I hope that book of yours is tucked safely away."

He stood, and with the new angle and ferocity of the light she could see him clearly.

"Gandalf."

oOo


	4. Chapter 4 It's Just a Book

Chapter 4: It's just a Book

oOo

"Yes, Gandalf. As is what most call me. Dark have been the times of late, and with it the most unexpected things have happened. A hobbit and his gardener bear great burdens across wide and open country and those who have not had tidings in many a time reunite over matters much too horrid. I have been all over Middle Earth through its many ages and yet have I to meet a character such as you. But you know this already, don't you?"

His voice was deep and grandfatherly. Raspy with the tone of someone who enjoyed a good smoke and grey on every inch of his hair, he was exactly as the book described him but not as she imagined. Perhaps she was biased, but she thought he'd look more like Dumbledore and show more of his age. He was old, at least in appearance, but not as wrinkly as Albus had been but still shared the twinkling eyes. He was much more bushy in the way of hair, and unlike Albus was very grey instead of cotton. He was also much taller but still had the appearance of a weary old man; something Hermione knew would vanish in the heat of battle.

"Maybe." She said, "Things were almost changed by me knowing what I know."

"Ah yes, with the Captain of Gondor."

"But how do _you_ know?"

Stupid question. Of course he knew. He was Gandalf for Merlin's sake. He probably met with the order of wizards or something and found out all about her.

"A wizard knows many things, and especially those of whom a person wears so apparent on their faces." He said, speaking in riddles the way she remembered in the book.

"My face?" She asked.

He walked around the chaise and came a bit closer to her, "My dear, it is not hard to see what you have just experienced." He took her by a hand on her back and led her to the chaise to sit. "For it is splattered like an imprint all over your face."

She smiled at him and followed his lead and sat.

"So you know? Everything, I mean."

"Only that of which you have already told me."

She noticed Ithilwen and Eruadan had gone even though they had promised her a bath and left the basket with the soaps was sitting atop her bed. They had probably had gone when the saw Gandalf, and figured since that was one of the people she had asked for to leave her with him.

"Did you know? That I was coming, I mean?"

"I have been aware of you since you came upon the city's borders." From within his cloak he pulled a pipe, filled it, and began to blow a steady stream of smoke into the crisp air. "I must admit, it has been sometime since I've come across someone with such power. I know most things and thoughts from the eastern shore to the western deserts- _most_ things. Those that I know naught of are usually a fouler kind."

Hermione took a quick intake of air.

Was this a bad thing?

"Sir?" She asked him when he paused.

"But I have not seen this from you. At least," a bushy grey eyebrow rose above his pipe, "not yet."

Hermione smiled. Gandalf reminded her so much of Dumbledore.

"You can trust me Gandalf. All I want is to figure out why I'm here." She clasped her hands in her laps and pursed her lips. "And if I can go home."

He took another puff from his pipe. "This, my dear, is not something I can answer." She frowned, wanting an explanation. "Come, tell me your tale."

"Well, do you want all of it?"

"As much as you deem necessary."

"I suppose I should start, well, at the beginning. My name is Hermione Jean Granger, born to Muggle parents in London, England…"

Hermione found herself rambling off as usual, but this time the person listening to her didn't get glassy eyes halfway through her speech. It was well into the night by now, and Hermione caught herself yawning before she realized she was tiring, but she needed to continue.

"I always insisted on finishing my schooling, but I suppose it wasn't until after the war that I realized everything was alright, and then this happens."

She told him about the book, and how she felt as though she couldn't put it down; the lights that came from it and her accidental bringing of her to Middle Earth.

"Would you like to see it?" She asked him.

He took a long puff from his pipe that he managed to still be smoking even now, and shook his head.

"I fear that that would be a mistake. I can see in your eyes that you know all of which is written in those pages, and it must be for your eyes only." His hand came to rest on her shoulder. "If times could become any more bleak than I had ever guessed, I have been proved wrong again. I fear that if what is in that book is seen by any of this world history could change, and not necessarily for the better. This book is a weapon, and in the wrong hands it could prove to be the destruction of us all."

"But that's not what's in—"

"Don't tell me, my dear! For not even I can tempt myself from changing the way history is meant to be." He gripped her shoulder even more tightly. "Even if I knew what would happen, in my effort to see it go right I would already be changing the course of events. It is quite unfortunate that to you our world seemed only a tale written on paper. But I suppose the Valar have their explanation for these types of things."

"I see." She whispered.

She was alone. She had no one here she could honestly be completely truthful to if she couldn't be so with Gandalf. History and the lives of everyone in Middle Earth literally rested in her hands. And she had already messed it up, regardless of her trying to fix it. Boromir had been her first mistake here, and no matter what she would strive to make it her last. Gandalf had also been somewhat of a mistake, she had barely let it slip that everything was going to be alright in the end, but Gandalf was beyond intelligent and she knew he had picked up on her mistake their too. She had to make everything right again, and if that meant that she had to hide herself in a broom cupboard for fear that any sort of interaction could change even the slightest of things, then the broom cupboard she would be until everything she knew to pass went completely on course.

"So then, what should I do?" She asked him, her voice faltering mid-sentence and giving away her worries.

"I'm afraid that you are grounded to this world for now. Knowledge of this is beyond my reach, and until I find it it's better to remain guarded and hidden. A council has been scheduled for tomorrow, and amongst other things the fate of the One Ring shall be decided, this, you no doubt already know." He stood up then, and pocketed his pipe. "Those who have been handpicked from far lands will come and hear the fate of the Ring. This you also know. I shall say no word of you to the council, for fear that this might change things. Instead I shall speak with Lord Elrond in private. You have not told me much of what will unfold so I do not think it so dangerous to seek advice from him, yet I will only describe you as a seer. In the meantime my dear, keep the book safe, and away from any whom could see it."

He stepped forward to leave in dramatic fashion but she stopped him.

"Thank you Gandalf." She said, sad to have him leave her already.

"Do not thank me yet my dear, for we have not yet understood anything of this predicament. For now, sleep well, for you will be under watch of protective elven eyes." He made a crinkly old smile and vanished behind the open doors of the Homely House.

Not seconds after he left Hermione heard murmuring outside her door and watched as the siblings returned to her room. Ithilwen entered first followed by her brother Eruadan, but didn't come in past a few feet.

"My lady, it is well into the night, do you still wish to commence with your bath?"

Hermione, tired but still feeling quite dirty after walking and riding around in her sweat all day, immediately perked up at the suggestion.

"If it isn't too much trouble, yes I'd love to."

Ithilwen nodded and Eruadan turned and left on her queue. She hurried to the fire and roused it from the embers, and then with a gesture led Hermione to a small connecting room in the corner.

It was no more than a few meters on each side, but had large open windows in which a grand view of the city could be seen that made it seem much larger. In the center was an in-ground tub that looked more like a natural hot spring than tub because of the Elven workmanship. It had no water, and that's where Hermione supposed Eruadan had gone.

Exhausted and aware that she was safe and in a place where Ithilwen would take care of her, she nearly dowsed off as the elf stripped her of her Hogwarts robes and placed her in the tub. She vaguely remembered the gradual pouring of hot water into the tub and it slowly filling up but as soon as it reached past her waist her head lolled back and her eyes shut. It seemed only a moment was she asleep before she was awakened by Ithilwen as she slipped a nightgown dress over her head and helped Hermione string her arms through the silk sleeves.

Ithilwen helped Hermione to the bed, pulling back the sheets for her and tucking her in. Hermione nearly out for the count again, lay her head back on the down-filled pillows, but couldn't close her eyes.

From somewhere deep inside her stomach she felt an overwhelming feeling of sadness and before she could wipe them away large tear droplets formed and fell down her face from the corner of her eyes followed by gentle sobbing.

He couldn't believe she'd gotten herself into such a mess, and this time she was virtually alone. Harry and Ron were not here for her, and as much as she wanted to claim sole brains and cleverness in their friendship she knew that as much as they needed her she needed them. She wouldn't last without her brave Harry and supportive Ron. Especially in a place she had only read about in books.

Ithilwen, concerned but not necessarily alarmed, caressed Hermione's hair in gentle strokes hoping to calm the tiny human. To her, Hermione was merely an infant in a situation far past her wisdom, and the only thing Ithilwen could do for her was try and comfort the child the best way she could. She hadn't meant to, but her keen sense of hearing had heard tiny bits of the girl's conversation with the Wizard and she felt horrible that someone so young had been through such torture. She had seen the many scars that were scattered here and there over the girls body but spent most of her attention at the thick line across the girls neck that could have only been created by a very sharp knife.

Hermione's sobbing was broken by a voice like golden bells in the springtime. Ithilwen was singing to her, strongly but quietly, in a tone Hermione couldn't help but find soothing.

Like a child Hermione's cries died down with the intrusion of the voice and the caresses, and she fell victim to the night.

The afternoon sun was shining through the vast windows of Hermione's room bathing her in its light as she slept and so was the way Ithilwen found her the fourth time she came to check on Hermione that day.

This time though Hermione was roused by Ithilwens duties as she placed Hermione's strange clothing on the end of her bed, freshly washed and pressed to the best of her ability.

"Good morning." Hermione said to her, lifting herself from her horizontal position.

"It is past noontime." Ithilwen said, chuckling softly. "You seemed too tired to disturb, so I let you be."

"Oh, dear." Hermione gasped. "You are far too kind, but I should have definitely woken up as soon as possible!"

Hermione's thoughts went immediately to the council. She had no choice, considering everything that had already deferred from the original story, she had to go to the council and make sure everything went right. If there was even the small chance that something could go wrong, and there was, then Hermione had to go and see it all unfold correctly.

Hermione almost dressed back into her Hogwarts robes but at Ithilwens protest that she should wear a simple green gown with golden trimmings Hermione decided it was for the best. If she didn't want to change anything then she would have to look the part to not raise anyone's suspicion. She put the gown on and ate some fruit and a bit of biscuits that were sweet and dipped in sugar and drank from a small goblet filled with a nectar not too far in taste from a mango.

After seeing that Hermione had ate and was well fed, Ithilwen left to see to her other duties of the day. Hermione wondered where she would go and what she would be doing, but didn't ask and said a friendly "goodbye" as Ithilwen dismissed herself.

She had her own mission after all.

Gandalf had made it clear that she should stay away from anyone or anything that she could possibly jeopardize by changing it in the slightest, but she had already changed a little bit already, and she needed to make sure that everything was going the way it should. She couldn't chance it, and all she had to do was make sure that she wasn't seen.

Which, perhaps unfortunately for her, was easy. She wasn't noticed too often in Hogwarts or anywhere for that matter when she wasn't with Harry or Ron, but for the most part she liked it that way. She didn't have to deal with the drama and idiocy of her peers and could get her work done, exactly as she wanted it.

In her new elven dress she hoped she wouldn't stick out too much and going to the vanity she fixed her curly hair over her ears so they wouldn't be too noticeable. The only thing she knew she had going against her was the fact that she was so tiny here, more so than she felt she was at her home. The trip to Middle Earth might have shrunk her, or made her body younger, but she thought just the fact that the people here were much larger than her was just that.

She stepped out into the hallway, and as she made her way down the long open corridor she realized that the Last Homely House was bigger than she thought. She tried to follow the sound and the smell of fresh air, but since the house was so open she was basically going in circles. She passed by a few elves here and there busily going about their duties and everyone greeting her with at least a nod.

Then, she came upon something she simply couldn't resist.

Right in front of her was one of the libraries she saw the previous day. This one, big and open with shelves made of grey stone and large tapestries and paintings was simply seducing her. Falling under the spell of books once again she entered it and a little voice in the back of her mind told her it was better this way, probably her inner Gandalf, and that here she would be out of the way.

Her feet found herself a window seat and her hands caught a book, the first that she saw on the window seat and was reading it before she knew it. It was a history of this world. Fitting, since one of the first books she had read of her own was _Hogwarts: A History_. Some of the information she knew, but most of it she didn't and she sucked in the information greedily.

A loud clang rang through the library echoing off the stone walls and vibrating Hermione's seat, and she jumped up wand at the ready. She set the book down respectfully back on the bench and turned to a doorway. It came from an adjoining room and slowly she crept off in the direction of the sound that frightened her.

What she found was a complete surprise.

Boromir stood alarmed near a large stone statue of a woman, the hilt of a sword down by his feet and a surprised expression on his face. Across from him, nearly on the opposite side of the room was another man; this one oddly familiar but Hermione couldn't see him clearly. He held a book in his hands and was peering above it at Boromir with an expression a mix of amusement and annoyance.

Boromir turned and glided away from the statue, not seeing her at her end of the room and exiting out another.

Curious, but sensing no danger, Hermione returned her wand to her sleeve as she had no back pocket and turned away from the stranger and back to her window seat.

"You know Boromir of Gondor, my Lady?" A voice asked behind her.

Hermione had hoped she could have just slipped away unnoticed as she had planned, and winced when he called out to her.

"I apologize. I see that I have startled you." She turned around to face him.

"Don't worry about it—"

He picked up the sword from the ground, replacing it respectfully on the stone table and giving her a good look at him.

He was tall, obviously, and regal. With dark brown hair and a trimmed beard. His eyes pierced through the air toward her, and his clothes were dark but in the elven fashion.

Hermione wasn't daft. This had to be Aragorn. Of course he wouldn't introduce himself as such, much preferring his birthright to be downplayed, but as Strider if he introduced himself at all or something equally as inconspicuous.

Reminding herself of Gandalf's advice, she squeaked, realizing that she was entering a situation that she probably shouldn't.

ooo

Review! And if you'd like, give me your input on where you'd like this to go!


	5. Chapter 5 Remaining Invisible

Chapter 5: Unsuccessfully Remaining Invisible

oOo

She felt a little bit of shock, probably much like the way Ron had felt when he first lay his eyes on Viktor Krum, and she found herself stuttering.

First Boromir, then Gandalf, and now Aragorn? The very soon King of Gondor and husband to the Lady Arwen, the Evenstar?

Just her luck.

"I had not meant to shake Lord Boromir in such a manner." He made on last glance to the statuette holding the sword as if to explain the sound to her and what had occured. "He is an honorable man."

"Yes," she said, "I know."

She grasped the ends of her sleeves in nervousness. She was tense, and there was no doubt he could tell.

"Do you know him, my lady?"

"I-In a way, yes." She knew she could trust him, but part of her was nervous about giving too much information away. "He accompanied me to the city."

"You hail from Gondor?" He asked her, lightly stepping closer and closing the gap between them with each second.

"N-no, not necessarily." She wasn't sure if she should make her story known to anyone else. Gandalf hadn't mentioned if she could or not, but she supposed it was a no on all counts. What had happened to trying not to make any sort of interactions or changes as possible? Leave it to her to screw these things up!

Aragorn was clever though and sensed that she was being rather timid. He nodded slowly in thought and clasped his hands behind his back.

"Gondor is beautiful country." He said admiringly. "It has been long since I have made visit, but I suppose it is still as grand as ever."

Hermione nodded in feigned agreeance. Of course she had never seen Gondor. She only had an imprint of the land from Tolkien's maps in the books in her mind, but she could only imagine what they actually looked like. Tolkien's visionings were spectacular, and from his descriptions she had 'seen' a kaleidoscope of Middle Earth—but nothing compared to the real thing.

"I am Aragorn, my lady." He bowed his head to her, "I only wish it were on better terms and days that we meet."

She knew what he was alluding to. He brought the hobbits with Frodo and the Ring to Rivendell, and knew of the rising dangers in the East. But now she had to introduce herself. There was no mentioning of a Hermione in The Lord of the Rings, and she had already made the mistake of introducing herself to Boromir- _how could she have been so stupid?_!- but there was no going back now, and she was already altering the story by even being here to talk to him.

"Hermione, my lord."

"Hermione?" He repeated, correctly the first time and she knew that she liked him even more now. He had a kingly aura about him, even though he disguised himself as a ranger. "A name I've heard naught of, but beautiful nonetheless."

Oh Merlin, she was making it a priority to find every man here fantastically irresistible.

"Thank you."

"How did you come about Boromir?"

This bloke just won't quit. Didn't he know that she was from a different world where the entire history of his world was written down in book form for children to read, and she had happened to come across it?

Oh, that's right, he didn't.

But she figured she could trust him to let him know at least a bit of information, Gandalf surely did. And Boromir had already learned more about Hermione than she would have wanted.

"He helped me. Well, found me by the river." At his concerned face she added, "I was lost."

"Lost?" He questioned.

"Yes." She answered curtly.

Aragorn seemed to grow concerned, "How did you become lost?"

She thought for a moment. Obviously she couldn't tell him the truth.

"I'm not quite sure."

"You do not recall?"

"Not exactly."

If he wasn't suspicious of her before, he sure was now. "You are unsure?"

They were quickly approaching dangerous ground. And she had no idea how to divert it. "Yes." She said, thinking of Gandalf.

"You mean to say you do not remember?" He said, gazing deep into her eyes. There was a great deal of suspicion reflecting strongly back at her.

"That is what they say, I suppose." She whispered shyly staring back.

"Lord Elrond tells me you are a seer."

"A seer?!" Hermione gasped, shocked. She had yet to speak with Lord Elrond and yet here Aragorn is, the first time she meets him, telling her things she had yet to learn. "I-I don't think I would put it like that."

Aragorn smiled warmly, seeing that he had frightened her.

"I mean no distress. I am merely curious."

If Lord Elrond saw fit to indulge Aragorn than maybe she should too.

"Oh alright then. I suppose Lord Elrond is right. I am a seer, of sorts." She told him. "What else did he tell you?" She asked.

Aragorn smiled again, "Only that you are to be protected."

Hermione digressed. "Gandalf tells me that I shouldn't even be talking to you right now." She said, fiddling with her sleeves, hoping that even by saying this that the reality of Middle Earth wouldn't implode in her face.

"Gandalf over-worries. He is nervous in the shadow of Mordor." Aragorn said, turning back to the statue and fingering the table unto which the blade lay. "He has always been known for it." He turned back around, and stepped over to a pillar to lean against it.

His shirt became slightly taut on his upper arms as he crossed them upon his chest in his relaxed position, and Hermione was reminded of how much he was a deadly warrior. He was Dunedain, and with it came not only his future but his past as well. He was already plenty battle worn, and she found her self actually wanting to meet the rest of the fellowship.

Boromir had exceeded her expectations. The man was just so _large. _And here in front of her was Aragorn, tall and well built as well but less brawny and more hardy- _definitely_ more rugged, even in his Elven attire. He seemed a little out of place in it.

He reminded her of Sirius, a man whom Hermione always had a bit of a crush on, and a wizard she looked up to. _They even have the same sort of personality,_ Hermione thought, staring up at Aragorn leaning nonchalantly against the white marble pillar, a coy smile on his face not so unlike the ones she had blushed to in Grimmauld Place so often her fifth year.

But this was Aragorn and not Sirius, even though it was like looking into her past and seeing someone she missed dearly even though she was not as close to him as Harry was.

"You are so young." He said suddenly to her, "I find it hard to believe that you possess such wisdom and foresight."

_You don't even know the extent of it_, she thought.

"I am not inexperienced though." She said back. "I have seen my fair share of horrors."

"I am sure you know more than you lead others to think."

Hermione nodded slowly, and decided now was probably a good time to end this conversation.

"I shall see you some other time then, Lord Aragorn." She said, bowing her head and doing an awful rendition of a curtsy.

Aragorn nodded back with a smile. "I am not a King, milady. There is no need to be so formal."

"Yet." She said, and turned from the room leaving him behind.

She knew that the council was soon, and now she had no choice but to supervise it. Her mere presence had already changed too much; she had interacted with characters of a story that she wasn't supposed to be part of. And even small things like hitching a ride with Boromir and talking to Gandalf and Aragorn had pronounced impacts. There was no telling what was different now, or even if she was in the same story that she had read.

On her way back to the small and secluded section of the library she could feel herself going mad.

How she could have been so stupid and gotten herself into this mess?!

Not only had she already messed so much up already, she continued to do so even after she had made a promise not to.

She sat down into a window seat with a view of some gardens of the Homely House. It was more the size of a jungle than a garden, being so large and beautiful Hermione was sure that it consisted of every beautiful plant in existence, plus some that she was sure that even Madam Sprout herself didn't know of (if they were even of the same world). There were Elves scattered here and there, most sitting and relaxing in the atmosphere of the gardens, some tending to the plants. It was peaceful, and just as Tolkien described.

But she couldn't help but feel uneasy. The looming thought that even her breathing was doing uncontainable damage and altering the history of everything around her was bothering her to no end.

Ronald had always said that she worried too much.

But perhaps she was worrying excessively. In fact, nothing had been changed too much. Gandalf had arrived on time, Boromir made it that night, and Aragorn still remained as ominous as ever, until his big reveal at the council tomorrow morning of course.

And speaking of the council, she had to go. Not as a guest of course, but she would have to spy. There was no way she was going to let such a big event as this go unsupervised and then find out that she had changed the members of the fellowship! No, even though it went against her own morals- she had often scolded Harry and Ron for breaking the rules of course- she would have to break them this time.

She returned the book she had back onto the shelf and made her way, rather hopelessly, back to her room for the night. And this time she avoided running into anyone of importance.

Morning arrived faster than Hermione had anticipated, even thought she had gone to sleep that night rather early. She had woken just as the first rays of sunlight peeked in through the gentle architecture of the windows, casting a golden sheen upon all the silvery and golden things of her room.

It was much too amazing, just like the first night she slept and woke up the next day in her first year dormitory at Hogwarts. Everything was surreal, and Hermione could help but make the little joke to herself that not of this was actually happening and she was laying in a bed in St. Mungos, finally gone bat-shit mad. But she dismissed her joking immediately; if she were crazy she wouldn't be aware of it. There was a tray upon the bedside, no doubt left there by Ithilwen, and Hermione was thankful. She was starving. It was of some different sort of nectar that tasted like pumpkin juice and pineapples and then sweetly spice sugar-glazed scones that reminded her of Mrs. Weasley, sat on a plate next to the goblet.

She ate quickly, remembering what she had to do today. She put a gown on hastely from the armoire but failed at finding shoes. Looking down at her feet, she figured they were clean enough to go barefoot just as all the elves.

"Their feet have to be cold, no doubt." She murmured, stepping out into the hall after braiding her hair quite sloppily and wiping the evidence of sleep from her eyes. The marble was indeed cold, chilled by the beginnings of falls cool breezes. "But I guarantee they don't feel sensation like humans do."

It was going to be difficult to find the place where the council was being held since no one had told her and the only basis she was going on where vague descriptions from an old leather bound book. But she supposed if she would just get good and lost she would stumble upon it eventually.

Which was exactly what happened.

She found herself in the gardens, the exact one that she had a view of from her window in fact, and as she ventured through, she knew she had hit the target right in the middle. She could hear male voices, some slightly more forceful than others and some more dubious, but it was no doubt the council.

Slightly in the distance before her hidden from her clear view by the various limbs of the trees turning golden with the season was a tall and greyed dais, twelve or so wooden and occupied chairs atop it.

"Psst!"

Startled, she turned and looked for the source of the noise. Upon not seeing anyone at first, she was confused, but then remembered the certain statures of who it was that could have spotted her. Closer to her than she realized, just behind the small branch of a bush were two very short people- hobbits.

"Merry, Pippin!" she gasped.

"Have we met?" Merry questioned, the more inquisitive of the two. He was short, of course with a curly mop of sandy colored hair atop his head. "I don't believe we have." He said.

"Maybe she's an Elf, Merry? They do have a tendency to know things." Pippin said, a near identical copy of Merry except for his slighter nose.

"Never mind that!" he whispered, "Get down! We can't be seen!"

Pippin grabbed her hand, and because of his height she was drug very quickly down to the ground behind the bush. She squeaked as her knees were slammed onto the hard stone.

"Sorry!" Pippin whispered just before Merry put his finger to his lips and shushed them.

He pointed to the council, "We don't want to be seen _or_ heard." He snapped.

Hermione smiled, Merry reminded her of herself.

All three peered through the bushes, and as they listened and watched the men and elves and dwarves bicker and perform speeches they grew bored. From somewhere within his coat Pippin pulled out a peach-like fruit and started nibbling on it.

"Pip!" Merry whispered, "Now is not the time!"

Pippin tossed the fruit behind them after taking a few more bites and turned to Hermione, "And who're you, my lady?"

Taken aback, she stumbled over her words, "Um, I'm Hermione."

"Hermonie." Merry tried to repeat.

"More or less." She whispered.

"Please to make your acquaintance, Hermonie." He bowed his head as much as he could without rustling the leaves too much. "I am Meriadoc Brandybuck, and this is Peregrin Took." Pippin bowed his head as well. "But you can call us Merry and Pippin."

"My old gaffer is the only one that calls me Peregrin." Pippin smiled.

"Hello." She said. "Are you two spying?" She said with her trademark inquisitive tone. Ron usually got that tone of voice from her more than anyone.

Pippin laughed, "Yes, Sam is too. He's over there!"

Across the way in another set of bushes behind a pillar Hermione could see another hobbit, just slightly more plump than these two, who were already pretty round from their hobbit-sized diets. But before she could comment any further, he jumped up from behind the pillar and into the middle of the crowd. It didn't take a moment for the hobbits closest to her to follow him, and she was left a lonely spy.

Through the bushes she spotted the whole group of men, the fellowship. Aragorn and Boromir she knew, along with the newly met Merry and Pippin. Sam was there next to a thinner hobbit with dark hair—Frodo. Gandalf was behind him then an elf, dressed immaculately and lithe, with ultra blonde hair and darker heavyset eyebrows. That was Legolas, she was sure of it even though she had pictured him a brunette from Tolkien's description. He was tall, perhaps even taller than the very tall Boromir, but she couldn't tell from here spot. Next to him was a dwarf, Gimli. His hair and beard were reddish brown in color and he was taller than she expected, but not the height of the two men.

Then she met the eyes of a different person. Tall, dark, and intimidating, the elf locked eyes with her and she knew that she had been caught. There was no denying, she knew who this was. With long dark hair, and billowing silvery robes, Hermione gasped.

"Lord Elrond."

His eyebrows rose, and his held tilted down in question.

Oh dear, she was in trouble.


End file.
